


didn't wanna believe it (but now you are all I see)

by BloodInTheFields



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/F, Fluff and Crack, Skinny Dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodInTheFields/pseuds/BloodInTheFields
Summary: It’s on their third date that everything goes to shit. In hindsight Tissaia should have known crushing hard on the whirlwind that is Yennefer would mean her life would be turned upside down. However, she had never imagined it would land her in jail.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 12
Kudos: 74





	didn't wanna believe it (but now you are all I see)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xjellydonut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xjellydonut/gifts).



> It's been a WHILE. I'm hardly satisfied with this (wrote it over a month so it's disjointed) but I really wanted to post something so here you go! Hope you enjoy!

It’s on their third date that everything goes to shit. In hindsight Tissaia should have known crushing hard on the whirlwind that is Yennefer would mean her life would be turned upside down. However, she had never imagined it would land her in jail.

__

_Five hours earlier_

Tissaia adjusts her blouse for the third time in as many minutes, checking herself one last time in the mirror. She looks good. She knows she looks good.

“You look good, De Vries, stop panicking,” she berates herself. She’s a grown woman, successful, rich, and young enough to be going on dates with a twenty-eight year old without it looking strange or being called a cougar. All of these things unfortunately don’t do anything to make her less nervous. Tonight is the third date. The infamous third date and she’s fairly certain Yennefer will try to bring her back to her place afterwards, and Tissaia is both ready and not ready for everything that can happen once they’re there. She hasn’t gone on a third date in forever and her nerves are pretty much non-existent right now. She sighs, checks herself in the mirror once more, applies some perfume to her pulse points, smacks her lips and, finally satisfied with the result, she grabs the handbag on the stylish console near the entrance door and forces herself out of the apartment before she loses her courage and cancels.

There’s no cancelling on Yennefer anyway, she figures. The woman would show up on her doorstep even though she doesn’t have her address. She’d find a way. Oh, god. Tissaia is panicking and she hurries to her car before she changes her mind and tries to forget the world under her blanket.

Their meeting had been one of chance, a flat tire that had left Tissaia stranded right outside the city and a dead phone sitting in her purse. A blue convertible had pulled up shortly after, driven by a blonde woman that had identified herself as Sabrina and to whom Tissaia had barely paid attention, so captivated by the friend accompanying her, all dark hair and eyes that shone purple when in the right light. Tissaia, in all her forty years of life, had never seen anyone so beautiful. Yennefer, she’d introduced herself. With her jet black hair billowing in the evening breeze, she’d had Tissaia completely under her spell immediately, and she’d known the fascination was mutual because Sabrina had let out a long-suffering sigh at seeing how her friend was openly gawking at the stranger they’d just picked up.

“You’re such a useless lesbian,” she’d whispered at Yennefer, loud enough for Tissaia to hear from the backseat as they’d been driving all the way to the nearest garage. Now, in her black Mercedes, Tissaia smiles fondly as she remembers the scene, and then she catches herself in the rearview mirror and is prompt to wipe that stupid smile off her face. Ugh. Being smitten is the _worst_.

__

Yennefer checks her phone for the twentieth time in five minutes which prompts the garcon to approach her table with a fake polite smile. “Perhaps you’d like to order a drink?” Does she want to? Hell yes! She’s been sitting for fifteen minutes and she knows Tissaia isn’t even late—she just showed up early—but there’s that insecurity in the back of her mind that will not leave her alone and Yennefer _wishes_ she could drink herself into a stupor. “No, thank you, I’ll wait,” she replies when she remembers the waiter standing by her table. He walks away, lips still stretched into that practiced smile Yennefer despises but knows oh so well. Mentally, she reviews her outfit and make-up: tight-fitting black jeans, a deep red top with lace at the back, black flats and an ensemble of lingerie that would probably have Tissaia on her knees without prompting, _if she would just show up for their date first_. She’s not irritated. She’s not. She is a tiny bit nervous, which is not something she’s used to. Yennefer Vengerberg does _not_ get nervous before a date. Her fingers drum on the table and she checks her phone again but there’s no text or missed call. Tissaia is on her way, she’d never ghost her like that. She’ll wait ten more minutes and then give her a call.

__

As it turns out, parking in the city at this hour on a Friday night is damn near impossible, and Tissaia feels like screaming and honking like a madwoman. She’s almost late for her date, and she is _never_ late. She was twenty minutes early for their first date, almost ten minutes early to the second, and now she’s going to be late and she hates that. Yennefer probably thinks she’s been stood up. Oh, god, what if Tissaia shows up at the restaurant but Yennefer’s already gone?

She spots a man getting into his car and all but crashes her car into his as he departs and she tries to secure the spot before someone else can steal it. He gestures at her, a wave of the hand to say she’s crazy, and she has half a mind to flip him off, because driving makes her anxious but driving while late turns her into an aggressive asshole but she reins herself in at the last second. He doesn’t matter. The woman waiting for her inside of the French restaurant they chose to try out tonight? _She_ matters. A lot. Once she’s parked, Tissaia all but shoots from the vehicle, slams the door and locks the doors with the press of a button.

She spots Yennefer when she enters, sitting in a corner of the room, scrolling through her phone. Tissaia swallows thickly because, wow. She can only see the top of Yennefer but red looks so good on her that Tissaia is suddenly hungry for a reason that has nothing to do with food. She makes her way to the table, nods at the waiters crossing her path, until she’s standing there and Yennefer finally looks up. The woman beams at her and promptly gets up to greet her.

“Hi,” she breathes, knowing that stupid smile is back on her face. Yennefer looks thrilled to see her and Tissaia’s heart skips a beat at such an overt display of happiness being caused by her presence alone. They sit, facing each other, and before either one of them can say anything more, the garcon from earlier is back at their side with menus. “The names are ridiculous,” Yennefer mocks. It all sounds so pretentious to her, but then again, it’s French so it’s expected. Tissaia chuckles lightly and holy shit, she is so pretty that Yennefer has to focus on her menu again to avoid blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“What the hell is a bavette d’aloyau,” she grumbles, aware she’s probably butchering the language of Molière. Tissaia laughs at her, and Yennefer doesn’t fight the grin that appears on her face. “It’s beef,” Tissaia informs her. “And it’s excellent.” Of course she knows what it is, she’s probably the smartest person Yennefer has ever met and she has travelled the world far more than Yennefer. She wonders if Tissaia speaks other languages—highly likely—and how she ever got so lucky to be going on dates with such a woman. “Maybe a bottle of Saint Joseph to go with red meat?” Yennefer nods even though she has no idea what that tastes like because while she’s by no means poor, she’s not exactly rich either so she doesn’t spend money on wine but on ordinary beer like a basic bitch. Five minutes later and Tissaia orders—in perfect French—an entrecote with a side of salad and Yennefer decides to try the bavette.

__

“Just admit it,” Tissaia says later, once they’re out on the streets, walking hand in hand. She’s never been one for hand-holding but Yennefer’s skin is smooth and Tissaia is craving her touch and wow, this is the gayest she’s ever been in public. She doesn’t mind. Having Yennefer at her arm is something to be proud of, and she has noticed the looks they’ve gotten every once in a while from passers-by. Yennefer sighs exaggeratedly and capitulates with a mock bow. “Fine, yes. French cuisine is _good_.” The word is all but spat out and Tissaia laughs at Yennefer’s antics. She tugs on her hand and brings their walk to a halt, staring up at Yennefer. They’ve kissed before—their first kiss had happened at the end of the first date and it had been chaste and sweet and had left both wanting more. Tissaia had never kissed someone on a first date. Or on the second one, if she recalled correctly. Another new thing she’d discovered with Yennefer.

“What are you thinking about,” Yennefer asks, a crease forming between her eyebrows. Her thumb caresses the back of Tissaia’s hand absent-mindedly and the other woman seems lost in thoughts. Much to her delight, her answer comes in the way of a warm pair of lips pressing against her own. It’s a total trip, kissing Tissaia. Yennefer knows her strengths, and seduction is one of them, but Tissaia had hardly been a challenge, pliable and eager, and Yennefer wants to have her in her arms forever. Not right now though, the night has barely started and she has plans for the both of them before she hopefully convinces Tissaia to come back home with her. “When’s the last time you went clubbing?”

__

Tissaia, as it turns out, has never been clubbing after her twenty-second birthday when she got so drunk that she ended up puking her guts out in the restroom. Yennefer intends to change that memory because while clubs are filled with sweaty, handsy people, they can also be a lot of fun, and she wants to get drunk and have an excuse to put her hands all over Tissaia’s body. They find a place that seems popular, judging by the line of people waiting by the building despite the night having barely started. They’re inside after ten minutes, and Yennefer makes a beeline for the bar and orders four cocktails at once—to avoid having to spend too much time trying to flag a bartender later, she tells Tissaia. The loud music makes it impossible to hold a conversation so Yennefer uses the opportunity to scoot closer, until her knees bump into Tissaia’s thighs and she can talk directly into the woman’s ear.

“How’s your drink,” she asks. Tissaia raises an eyebrow at her and smiles. “I assume it’s the same as yours,” she replies, and Yennefer laughs. She can’t resist pressing a quick kiss to Tissaia’s cheek before pulling back a little and focusing on her drink again. Soon enough, all four cocktails are downed and Yennefer stands up, already feeling a slight buzz. “Come on, show me your moves,” she beckons Tissaia, helping her up. She thinks she hears Tissaia retort that she has no moves but there’s no stopping Yennefer now. They make their way through the crowd and while Yennefer starts moving to the beat of the music, it takes Tissaia a solid minute to relax and find her rhythm. When she does though, what a sight she is! Yennefer’s hands are itching to find purchase on her hips and she feels a wave of pride and possessiveness wash over her. Which is… not ideal, because Tissaia is not _hers_ even though they are dating, and Yennefer knows herself and she knows how ugly she can get sometimes when her emotions take over her rational mind. But then, Tissaia stares right into her eyes and grabs Yennefer’s hands, and she’s the one to put them on her waist so Yennefer holds her close. She’s well aware that dancing is often akin to foreplay and oh boy is it working on her right now. Tissaia’s arms are wrapped loosely around her neck, and Yennefer wishes time would stop forever. She is _so_ fucked. This woman will be the death of her.

Tissaia isn’t sure how long they spend in their little bubble, moving to the music. She knows this is the most fun she’s had in well over a decade and she’s completely hypnotized by the woman in her arms. Before the date she’d been unsure and anxious about going home with Yennefer but now? Tissaia wishes she could teleport them right into a bedroom—any bedroom, hell, any flat surface where she could have Yennefer on her back, at her mercy. The thought alone is almost enough for Tissaia to drag Yennefer into the restroom and have her way with her right there, but she fights the urge, choosing instead to turn in Yennefer’s embrace so that her back is pressed against the woman’s front. Judging by the way Yennefer’s hands tighten their grip on her hips, Tissaia assumes she’s made a wise move. The alcohol’s gone to her head—a logical consequence of her lack of tolerance since she rarely ever indulges in more than the occasional glass of wine.

Of course, it’s not long before their bubble is burst by a man, probably in his thirties and not bad-looking—for a man—getting too close to them. He’s trying to sandwich Tissaia between Yennefer and himself and does not seem to take the clear hint that is Tissaia’s glare. She can only imagine the face Yennefer is making. She’s noticed the possessive streak in the younger woman and wonders how long she can last before letting that side of her shine through. Tissaia doesn’t much mind. She’s rather possessive herself, after all, she understands the impulse and so she lets Yennefer place a kiss behind her ear and shivers when the woman’s hands go from her waist to her lower belly and slip underneath her blouse. Yes, she is _beyond_ ready to leave this place.

And then, inevitably, someone bumps into them and there’s a wet feeling on her left side that she identifies with alcohol immediately. Yennefer barks out something at the apologetic woman who soon disappears into the sea of dancing figures around them. Then she’s all but dragging Tissaia off the dancefloor towards the restroom and Tissaia finds that she rather enjoys Yennefer’s assertiveness. The thought of her taking charge in the bedroom enters her mind and she has to shake it off before they reach the tiny room at the back. Predictably, it’s packed with women touching up their makeup or waiting their turn for one of the two stalls. Yennefer is still holding her hand and Tissaia tugs on it lightly to get her attention.

“Yennefer, we should just go,” she says when the woman turns to look at her. Just then, an obviously drunk girl pushes through the crowd to exit and bumps into Yennefer who all but flattens Tissaia against the wall behind her, and they’re face to face. Tissaia will blame it on the alcohol later—she’ll blame everything on it—but she grabs Yennefer’s neck and kisses her. She tastes of vodka and strawberry from her earlier cocktail and it’s been too long since Tissaia’s last kissed someone and she thinks she’s going to explode when Yennefer eagerly responds to the lips seeking her own. “Fuck,” she breathes out when they part. Yennefer’s lustful gaze is still on her mouth and Tissaia pulls her in for another open-mouthed kiss. “Let’s get out of here,” she says in Yennefer’s ear, soaked blouse forgotten. Yennefer nods silently, too lost in the desire she feels to bother with a verbal response.

Outside there’s a warm breeze, typical of the summer nights in the city. They drank too much for either of them to drive, and it’s so nice to be outside that Tissaia decides they can walk to the beach, only a couple of blocks away. She feels light, giggly, definitely way past tipsy. Yennefer holds her hand still, as they walk leisurely towards the ocean. It’s too dark to see further than the foam of waves coming to die on the sand but they venture onto the beach and drop into the sand with a laugh.

“I haven’t had that much fun in years,” Tissaia confesses when Yennefer meets her eyes. The younger woman’s smile fades off her face slowly, and she nods thoughtfully. “Me neither. I mean, I’ve had fun, just… not like this.” It’s true, Yennefer realizes. Sometimes life bores her so much that she wants to quit everything and go off on her own, explore the world and its opportunities. But it’s been a month since she met Tissaia and that feeling of utter boredom hasn’t crept in once. They’ve texted each other a lot, flirted so much that Yennefer thinks she’s shown great restraint in not pushing Tissaia up against a wall already. She feels how fast her heart beats around this woman, and it thrills her. With a devilish grin, she pushes herself up and stands, extending a hand to Tissaia who looks up at her questioningly.

“Have you ever been skinny-dipping?” Tissaia’s eyes grow wide and she shakes her head no. “Well, I guess there’s a first for everything,” Yennefer continues, beckoning her to stand. “Absolutely not,” Tissaia declares resolutely. "I am _not_ going for a swim at night, naked and drunk.” But then Yennefer shrugs and starts taking off her top and Tissaia’s mouth drops open. The thought of a naked Yennefer in the ocean… she swallows thickly and makes up her mind. Or, well, the alcohol makes up her mind for her. Yennefer screams in delight when Tissaia’s top joins her on the beach, and soon enough both women shed their clothes—Tissaia insists they must keep their underwear at least and Yennefer obliges her—and make a beeline for the water. It’s cold at first, splashing against them in such a way that Tissaia lets out a squeal that does not sound like her at all. Yennefer is already swimming, body submerged up to her chin, as Tissaia walks further into the water, arms crossed against her chest in a late and futile attempt at modesty.

“It’s actually good once you’re in it, come on!” Yennefer encourages. Tissaia doesn’t much mind the cold and it’s true that the water is fine after a minute of getting used to the temperature. And then they’re circling each other, growing closer with each movement until they’re face to face and with Yennefer being taller, her chest is actually above the water line and Tissaia has to fight the urge to stare. The slow grin that spreads on Yennefer’s face is visible in the moonlight. “I want to kiss you,” she announces, locking her hands around Tissaia’s wrists, in the water. And no, Tissaia had not planned on whatever this is but when their lips meet all plans go out the window anyway and if Yennefer offers to take her right here, she’ll probably say yes despite knowing how terrible that idea will turn out to be. But it seems that Yennefer is content with just holding her against her wet skin and tracing her mouth with her tongue, and Tissaia shivers—not from the cold but from something else entirely.

A movement she catches from the corner of her eyes draws her attention to the beach where they’ve left—

“Fuck! Hey!!” Yennefer saw the shadow too, and Tissaia’s blood runs cold. They swim back to the beach in a rush, stumbling in the water, but it’s already too late: where there used to be a pile of clothes and their purses, only bras are shoes are left. “What the _fuck_ ,” Yennefer yells after the long-gone thief. Tissaia is already beside herself, arms wrapped protectively in front of her. Yennefer hastily puts on her bra and hands Tissaia hers. Then she laughs. It’s the nerves, she knows. What else is there to do? Tissaia’s car is parked quite far from here and they have no money to pay for a cab—and who’d even accept them in their car?

“I can’t believe this just happened,” Tissaia says, at once feeling sobered up. Gone is the trance she’d been in, melting in Yennefer’s embrace. She is furious. “Who the _fuck_ does that,” she swears, ignoring Yennefer’s look of shock. “Well? Come on. Might as well try to make it to my car.” Yennefer follows her steps in the sand, shoes in hand. Tissaia, despite her small height, is a fast walker—powered up by her anger. Yennefer has to hurry her pace to catch up with her.

They haven’t even left the beach when a patrol car comes to a halt in front of them and two policemen with blinding flashlights exit the vehicle. “Evening, ladies,” the taller one says. “You do know you cannot be in such a state of undress in public, right?” Before Yennefer can even open her mouth, Tissaia is all but screaming in his face. “You think?! Our clothes were stolen and you should be focusing on catching the thief instead of gawking at us!” Maybe she doesn’t feel drunk but the alcohol is most definitely still in her system and Yennefer cringes. They are so getting arrested. Sure enough, the second policeman steps forward, looking stern, and says: “It’s forbidden to go for a swim at night as there are no lifeguards on duty. Looks like you’re coming with us to the station.” Tissaia looks like she wants to protest this but Yennefer’s hand shoots out to cover her mouth, and she gives the officers her most polite fake smile. “Of course. We want to file a complaint for the theft of our purses and clothes as well. We didn’t know about the interdiction to swim.” Of course she did, but Yennefer and rules don’t go hand in hand. Tissaia glares at her but when the burly policeman opens the car door for them, she hops in without complaint.

__

They spend way too long at the station and Tissaia is somehow even grumpier when an officer hands them jumpsuits that they keep around in case the drunkards they keep in holding cells soil themselves overnight. Yennefer looks at her and has to suppress a smile. After they file the complaint, the alcohol has long since worn off and Yennefer dares to ask the police officer in charge of their complaint if he can drive them back to Tissaia’s car. The ride is short and tense—no one in the vehicle in the mood for chit-chat. When the car pulls over and the two women are finally free to go, they wait until they’re both inside Tissaia’s car to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Yennefer starts out. “Not how I’d planned that evening to go.” They’d agreed that Tissaia would drive Yennefer back to her place, both aware that the latter would invite Tissaia in and that she’d say yes to one last drink. Now though? Yennefer isn’t sure and it’s making her anxious.

“It’s not your fault,” Tissaia finally says, breaking her silence. She places a hand on Yennefer’s knee, and even through the jumpsuit, the brunette feels the heat of her palm. “No one could have imagined we’d be intoxicated enough to go for a swim _and_ that we would get robbed. And on top of that, we have to wear those horrendous _prison clothes_!” She gestures at herself, grimacing, and Yennefer cannot hold back her laughter. “Come on, you still look hot,” she exclaims, hoping to bring back Tissaia’s good mood. The comment gets her a small smile at least. “Let’s go over to my place and have a hot chocolate to cheer up?” At that, Tissaia’s face brightens and she nods before putting the key in the ignition. The car roars to life and Yennefer barely has the time to fasten her seatbelt before they’re off into the night.

__

She spent the entire afternoon making sure her flat is spotless so Yennefer feels pretty confident when they pull into the parking of her building and make their way to the elevator. Luck is on their side now, and they don’t meet anyone on their path, and very soon they’re in front of Yennefer’s door. Tissaia’s hands brush against Yennefer’s waist as she fumbles with her key, feeling a little anxious now that they’re here. But the door opens, and she switches the lights on and the apartment is just as she left it earlier. Tissaia follows her in, takes in the place and nods approvingly. Yennefer isn’t sure Tissaia even realizes she’s doing it. She smiles and pulls her close by the elbow.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she whispers before placing a kiss at the corner of Tissaia’s thin lips. There’s a gleam in sky-blue eyes and Yennefer shivers involuntarily. Suddenly feeling brave, she steps back and gestures towards her cupboards. “I know I suggested hot chocolate, but how does alcohol sound?” Tissaia shakes her head, smiling. “Maybe if you’ve got rum then we can pour some into our mugs but I’m afraid you really did sell me on that hot chocolate.” Truth be told, Tissaia can’t remember the last time she had one and it’s beyond tempting now. Yennefer nods and busies herself in the kitchen, leaving her to look around and settle on the sofa. The apartment is nothing fancy—Yennefer isn’t exactly rich—but it’s perfect for one person or a couple. Her thoughts wander to what the bedroom might look like and she feels a blush creeping up her neck. If the evening is now back on track, then there’s a chance…

“Here,” Yennefer says as she materializes besides Tissaia, handing her a mug. “Careful, it’s quite hot.” Tissaia takes the beverage and sets it on the coffee table in front of them. Yennefer is quick to sit down to her right, legs drawn up under her. She looks at their attire and smiles, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Definitely not our best look,” Yennefer attempts to joke. “Although you still look super hot,” she adds with a wink. Tissaia grabs her hand and brings it to her lips. “I’m mad about our bags, I don’t much care about the clothes,” she says. “And I have absolutely zero faith in the police actually catching the thief. But we’re safe and sound, and that’s what matters.”

This time, the smile that appears on Yennefer’s face is genuine and wide. She holds her mug up and Tissaia takes the hint, clinks hers to Yennefer’s in a mock toast. “Cheers,” they exclaim together. The warm liquid makes its way down Tissaia’s throat and she closes her eyes, savoring it. The rum gives it the perfect aftertaste. When she opens her eyes, she finds Yennefer staring at her quietly. Yes, she thinks at once. The evening is back on track. The desire in Yennefer’s darkened eyes is unmistakable. Tissaia carefully places her mug back on the table and half-turns towards her companion. “Perhaps you’d give me a tour of your apartment?”

The implicit demand isn’t lost on Yennefer. In a flash, she’s up and pulls Tissaia with her, leads her to the door of her bedroom by the hand, then pauses in front of it. “You should go in first,” she offers. Intrigued, Tissaia slips past her and opens the door, only to stand in the doorway, stunned.

In the room, there’s not simply a bed. There are fairy lights everywhere from one wall to the opposite wall, and sheets put up, pillows and blankets everywhere on the floor and on the bed, and Tissaia cannot believe her eyes. “You made us a pillow fort,” she states, taking it all in before turning her attention to Yennefer whose shy smile betrays her nervousness. “You said you loved making them as a child, so…” The night should have gone differently but she can’t be mad about it any longer when she sees the adoration in Tissaia’s gaze. “You knew I’d come inside tonight, didn’t you? How presumptuous of you,” Tissaia teases as she finally steps forward. Yennefer follows her and together they fall to their knees, to crawl under the white sheets. The glow of the little bulbs give the space a cozy and warm feel. “Thank you,” Tissaia tells her once they’re settled, nested in pillows, facing each other as they lie side by side. “This is perfect.”

And then they’re kissing and it’s soft—much softer than Yennefer had expected this to go—but there’s no hurry and no world outside. The pillow fort is their bubble in time, and Tissaia pushes lightly at Yennefer’s shoulder so she lies on her back and lets the other woman crawl half on top of her, never breaking the kiss. Yennefer can still taste the salt of the ocean on her, mixed with chocolate and rum. It’s divine. The fabric of the jumpsuit is far from smooth and a sharp contrast to the skin it hides underneath when she slips her hand beneath Tissaia’s collar. “The hot chocolate is going to get cold,” Tissaia remarks when the kiss comes to an end. “I’ll make you another,” Yennefer promises, already chasing after her lips. This time, when their mouths fuse together, it’s anything but gentle. Tissaia’s hands find the zipper of her jumpsuit and pull it all the way down, and Yennefer yelps when warm fingers splay against her stomach. Tissaia smiles, pulls back a little. “Is this not what you had in mind for the evening?” Yennefer shrugs, smirks. “Now who’s being presumptuous?”

This gets a laugh out of Tissaia and instinctively, Yennefer’s hands come to rest on her hips, grounding her there on top of her. “You’re under arrest for being too sexy,” she whispers, gazing up at Tissaia. “Is this fort to be my prison,” Tissaia asks. Yennefer nods. “Are you to be my warden, then? Am I your prisoner?” Once again, she nods. “I suppose I could do worse,” Tissaia muses out loud, a teasing grin pulling at her lips.

Yes, if this is to be her prison, she thinks as Yennefer pulls her into a searing kiss, she finds that she’s more than willing to spend a lifetime in it.


End file.
